


Love is in the Air (and it Smells of Assholes)

by dementorsatemysoup



Series: One Year [2]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ashur Is Creepy As Fuck, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Some Humor, Useless Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3470132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unemployment finds Spartacus looking into opening his own business while Agron tries to figure out how exactly to introduce his brother to Nasir.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is in the Air (and it Smells of Assholes)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I made Agron a cop, but that's what he became.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading. Also thank you to those who took the time to comment and kudo the last story. And I will have part three up... some time in the near future.
> 
> Have a great weekend!!!

Mira wakes to the familiar sound of typing from a keyboard. She peels her eyes open, peering blearily up at Spartacus, and hoarsely asks, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Research," he answers nonchalantly, scratching his beard as his eyes scan the page.

Unemployment is  _not_ a good look on him, in Mira's opinion. She's never had a problem with beards before, but Spartacus' is getting ridiculously out of hand, and she's pretty certain he's been wearing the same sweatshirt for a week. He doesn't sleep all day, something she's grateful for, but he has cleaned every square inch of the house, finding dust in places even Mira didn't think to look, and he even decided to spend an entire day rearranging the books on their shelves by the authors' last names only to stop halfway through so he could reread _The Lord of the Rings_ trilogy (for possibly the eighth time). He's getting on her nerves, and she's six seconds away from knocking him out and dragging him to the curb, leaving a post-it stuck to his forehead that simply says:

_Get a hobby,_

_XOXO,_

_Mira._

"What, exactly, are you researching?" she asks pushing away thoughts of making a mess in their kitchen just to see what he would do, sitting up so she can glance at the laptop screen. "Why are you looking up stuff on starting a business?"

"I've been thinking," he starts closing the laptop, placing it at the foot of their bed. He turns to look at her, guilt flickering in his eyes when he continues,"I haven't been pulling my weight since I quit my job, and I know I'm getting on your nerves..."

"You're not," she lies but even she knows she doesn't sound convincing. "Alright, so you are, a little, but it's only been a couple weeks. You'll bounce back; you always do."

"Mira, everywhere I apply is associated with Glaber somehow, or his father-in-law. I literally burned every bridge I had when I quit working for Batiatus, and after the fight a few weeks ago..." he sighs, rubbing his eyes. He lowers his hand, shaking his head. "There's no way I'm apologizing to Glaber  _or_ Batiatus, and I sure as hell am not going to go crawling back to either one just so I can get back a job I hate. So, I figure, why not start my own business."

"You want to start your own business?" Mira gives him an incredulous look, tilting her head. "What do even you know about starting a business? Didn't you major in Ancient History in college?"

"I didn't say it would be easy," he states gruffly, reaching for the laptop. "But it's doable. If I am willing to put forth the time and effort." He has determination in his eyes, and Mira knows there's no way he's going to listen to reason; at least not now.

So, she sighs and says, "Alright. Start a business. I support you." She leans forward, giving him a kiss, and she's only half-joking when she adds, "And if we lose the house, we'll live in a cardboard box on the side of the road."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he states running a hand through her hair, giving her another kiss. When he lets her go, she lays back down, burrowing deeper under the covers, but she finds herself unable to sleep. "Hey," she calls over her shoulder, getting his attention, "I don't have to be to work for another hour." She lifts an eyebrow suggestively and he grins, practically throwing the laptop on the floor, and she laughs loudly when he playfully tackles her.

* * *

A peanut hits Agron in the side of the head and he looks up, scowling at his partner. Donar looks back, trying for innocent, but the mischief in his eyes is apparent. "Throw another one at me, see what happens," Agron warns glancing back down at the report he had been working on.

"What's this I hear about you getting regular sex?" Donar states waggling his eyebrows when Agron looks up again.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Duro told me about the fella you've been seeing," Donar replies leaning back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. "Says you haven't been home in three days. So, I figure, you're either making the dude up,  _or_ you and he have been doing a little _sexual healing_." He makes an obscene gesture with his body, humming Marvin Gaye's  _Let's Get it On,_ cackling when Agron throws a pencil at him and misses.

"Duro needs to mind his own fucking business," Agron states sharply, shaking his head. "As do you."

"But you and this guy  _are_ fucking, right? That's a thing that's happening?"

"Donar..."

Agron's retort is brought to an abrupt end by Oenomaus closing his office door and slowly heading towards their area. He stops just short of Agron's desk, raising an eyebrow in inquiry, and for a moment Agron actually thinks the man knows exactly what he and Donar have been talking about, but instead he asks, "Have you finished that report for that robbery last week?"

"Uh..." Agron searches his desk, moving folders and unfinished reports, until he finally comes across it, hidden among some candy wrappers and the lyrics to a Pink Floyd song he had printed out last night. He picks it up, handing it to Oenomaus. "Here you go."

The older man glances through the report before nodding. He closes it, tucks it under his arm, and turns to leave, only to stop and face him again. He fixes Agron with a long, searching look, before saying, "If I hear you've been fighting again, I'll suspend you for a week without pay." He then turns on his heel and stalks away, disappearing inside his office again.

"Holy shit," Donar exclaims grinning, shaking his head back and forth. "When the fuck did you get into a fight?"

Agron snorts, turning his gaze on his partner. "It's nothing. Some altercation at some party thrown by some rich prick. It's where I met..." he trails off, scowling, and looks down at his desk. "Never mind."

The two fall silent for a bit, but Donar breaks it by throwing another peanut at Agron's head. When the younger man looks up, he asks, "Duro really hasn't met this guy, yet?"

"Fuck the gods..." Why were they still talking about his love life? "There hasn't been an occasion for them to meet." You'd think he had been with Nasir for a year, and  _not_ a few weeks. "Let it fucking go."

"Does this guy  _know_ about Duro?"

Agron sighs heavily, shoving himself to his feet. He towers over Donar, pointing a finger in his direction, and hisses, "This is none of your business, alright? And tell Duro, since you two are  _so_ chummy now, that he will meet Nasir when I decide. Alright?" Donar raises his hands defensively, giving Agron a resigned look, and the younger man slowly sits down, grabbing his pen off his desk.

It's quiet for a full minute then Donar curiously asks,"So, your fella's name is Nasir?"

It's all Donar's fault that the pen explodes.

* * *

A shadow falls over Naevia's desk and she slowly looks up to find Ashur leering down at her. She supposes he  _could_ be smiling, but everything about him screams creepy, so she's sticking with leer. That, however, doesn't stop her from forcing a pleasant smile on her face when she asks, "Can I help you?"

"I find, that my day is not complete, until I have seen your beautiful face," he states slowly, letting his eyes roam down her body. When his gaze settles on her chest she clears her throat, causing him to meet her eyes once more. "How are you this morning?"

"Never better," she states dryly, looking down at her computer again. "If that's all, I have work to do."

"I have an appointment, with Batiatus," he explains sitting on the edge of her desk. "Care to keep me company while I wait?"

Naevia gets to her feet, collecting a stack of reports she needs to get to Lucretia, and says, "No, I would not." She nods her head and walks away, her heels clicking against the marble floor, trying to ignore the eyes that watch her go. Ashur has always had a thing for her, ever since she came to this company, and while Crixus has offered, on several occasions, to 'part the man's head from his body,' Naevia has decided to deal with the crush on her own (also she'd like to avoid having to see Crixus behind a glass window for the next twenty-five years).

She runs into a wall of muscle, taking a step back, and looks up to find Gannicus standing above her. She offers the man a genuine smile and asks, "A little lost aren't you?"

"Better coffee on this floor," he replies holding up an empty Garfield mug. He winks and whispers, "Don't tell Ol' Batty, though. Strictly speaking, I'm not supposed to be up here since he walked in on me and his assistant mid-coitus."

"Only you," Naevia states rolling her eyes, fighting a smile. "It's a wonder you still have a job." She walks past him, heading in the direction of Lucertia's office, but he gently grabs her arm, stopping her mid-step.

"Are the rumors true? Did Spartacus and Glaber get into it at Batty's New Year's Eve party?" _  
_

"You were there, weren't you?"

"I met this blonde..." he grins, his eyes glazing over, his mind, no doubt, going to places Naevia is too afraid to trek. He snaps out of it a few seconds later, clearing his throat, and shakes his head. "So, no, I was not there to see it."

 "They're true," she admits shrugging. "I heard Glaber said something to him, he didn't like it, and punched the man. When security tried escorting him out Agron and Nasir stepped in to help. They all got thrown out of the party. Spartacus must have quit outside."

"Huh." Gannicus releases her arm, rubbing his forehead. "I've been waiting for Spartacus to kill Ol' Batty. Could practically  _see_ him plotting the man's murder every time they were in a room together." He smiles softly, nodding his head. "Good for him, though, getting out of this hellhole. It's soul consuming."

"That it is," Naevia murmurs nodding in agreement.

"Who did you say helped him, again?"

"Uh, Agron and Nasir. Neither one work here, they were guests. Why?"

"I recognize that name. Agron. Where have I heard it?" Gannicus furrows his eyebrows, thinking, but finally realization dawns on him and he snaps his fingers. "My drinking buddy. Kinda lost track of him during the party, but I _did_ notice he had been talking to some short guy. It appeared he didn't need a wing man after all." He winks at Naevia, waving his mug in the air, and says, "Now, I'm off to get coffee before Batty finds me."

"Alright, I'll see you around Gannicus."

"Likewise." He nods to her and then walks away, disappearing around the corner, and Naevia snorts, shaking her head, continuing on her way to Lucretia's office.

When she returns to her desk, she's surprised to see Batiatus waiting for her, a grim smile on his face. Ashur stands behind him, lingering in the shadows, an unreadable expression on his face. However, there's something in his eyes that Naevia doesn't like, but she forces herself to look away from the man, letting her gaze fall on Batiatus."Is there a problem?"

"We need to talk," Batiatus says softly, and gestures to Naevia's chair. "Have a seat." She does, trying to fight the urge to run towards the elevators, already knowing she's not going to like what her boss is going to say to her.

* * *

"Ashur?" Nasir asks again, saying the name slowly, hoping he had just heard incorrectly. "That creepy guy who's been stalking you since you started your job? Are you sure?"

"Yes," Naevia replies nodding her head, glaring into her coffee cup. "I am now  _his_ assistant."

"You've got to complain," Mira says forcibly, a determined look on her face. "Spartacus told me how he treated his last assistant. She ended up filing a sexual harassment complaint against him."

"I know." Naevia shakes his head, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "Batiatus is only doing this because Ashur is his rat. Informs him on which employees haven't been following the rules; which are sleeping together who's stealing office supplies..." she sighs, scrubbing a hand through her hair. "He probably came across something  _huge_ and bribed Batiatus." She sighs and whispers, "Piece of shit."

"You could quit," Mira suggests crossing her arms across her scrub top. "I mean, it's not working too well for Spartacus, but you haven't gotten on the wrong side of the mayor or his son-in-law. You have a better chance of getting another job."

"I'm not quitting," Naevia states sharply, shaking her head. "I'm not being driven out of my job by some creepy, ass kissing fuck like Ashur."

"What are you going to do then?" Nasir asks curiously, picking up his coffee and taking a drink.

Naevia smiles and says, "I'll think of something." She then sniffs and swiftly changes the subject. "So,  _how's_ Agron?"

"What?" Nasir nearly drops his coffee, his face flushing slightly, and he ignores the smirk Mira gives him. He puts his cup down, clearing his throat, and says, "He's fine."

"Fine, huh?" Naevia's smiles and casually asks, "Just fine? Nothing else?"

"Shut up," he groans fighting the urge to put his head on the table. "I  _know_ you heard us last night. The walls aren't exactly thick." _  
_

"I was not aware Agron knew German," Naevia states and Mira lifts her eyebrows, intrigued. "Yes, I heard a slew of German that, while I didn't understand, sounded pretty dirty..."

"Ugh, shut up." Nasir covers his face with his hands, shaking his head. "Kill me now."

"I'm only teasing." Naevia reaching over the table, pulling Nasir's hands away from his face, and he lets her without too much of a fight. She gives him a kind smile and says, "I'm happy you're happy, and I will put up with dirty talk in German if it keeps you that way." He returns the smile, looking down at the table, and Naevia decides to let the subject drop, instead turning her attention to Mira. "So, tell me more about this business."

"Oh my god." Mira rubs her eyes, huffing. "He wants to open a bar."

"A bar?"

"Who?" Nasir asks looking between the two women.

"Spartacus," Mira answers lowering her hand, shaking her head. "And yes, a bar. It doesn't seem to matter to him that he has no money, no location, and no clue how to start a business. He's determined to do it."

Naevia shrugs and says, "He might succeed."

"Or we'll lose the house and be forced to move in with my parents." She crinkles her nose, disgusted with the idea. "My mother already hates him; this isn't going to make her like Spartacus any better."

"Mira,  _nothing_ is going to make your mother like Spartacus," Naevia points out and Mira nods in agreement. "It's kind of hard to like someone who lands naked in her rose bushes."

"I didn't _know_  my parents were home!" Mira exclaims and it's Nasir's turn to smirk at her. "Besides, he didn't just  _land_ in her rose bushes. He got  _caught_ in them too." The trio grimaces at the thought, especially the thought of thorns getting caught in places thorns should not be. "She'd won first prize sixteen years in a row for those roses, and in one afternoon she had to forfeit the competition." Mira picks up her coffee, taking a sip.

"At least your dad likes him," Naevia states shrugging. "That has to count for something, right?"

Mira snorts, finishing the last bit of her coffee. She gets to her feet, grabbing her jacket off the back of her chair, and says, "Dad's convinced himself that every boy I bring home is gay." She shrugs her jacket on, fixing the collar, and adds, "He won't be entirely convinced I'm in a relationship until I push out a kid, and even then it's a toss up." She sighs, tying her hair back into a messy ponytail. "Now, I have to get back to the clinic before Lugo breaks the photocopier again." She collects her bag and empty coffee cup, waves goodbye to Nasir and Naevia, and heads towards the exit.

"Have you told Crixus yet? About your new job?" Nasir asks after a beat, and Naevia shakes her head. "Afraid he'll do something stupid?"

"Yep," she answers nodding. "Among other things." He reaches over the table, squeezing her hand, and she smiles. They're quiet for a long moment, but finally he pulls away, leaning back in his chair, and Naevia asks, "Seriously, how is Agron? I haven't seen him in a while."

"He's fine," Nasir replies looking down at the table.

"What?"

"It's just..." he sucks in a breath, knocking his knuckles against the table. "He's not, you know, dating anyone else is he?"

"Why are you asking if he's dating anyone?"

"Because he's always on his phone and every time I mention going to his place he always changes the subject. He's not, you know, married or living with some guy is he?" Nasir genuinely looks worried, looking for reassurance when he doesn't  _need_ it, but Naevia still provides it.

"He's not married, he's not living with some long term boyfriend. Hell, I don't think Agron has ever  _had_ a long term boyfriend." She gives Nasir a kind smile and says, "He's not cheating on you, I swear. He's probably talking to Duro, and his apartment isn't exactly the epitome of clean."

"Duro?"

"His brother. Agron's been taking care of him since their grandmother died. I think he forgets sometimes that Duro isn't a little kid anymore..." Naevia trails off, reminding herself those are not her stories to tell, and says, "He's probably waiting until he knows your not going anywhere before introducing you two." She shrugs, "No big deal."

"Yeah," Nasir starts softly, skeptically, looking down at the table. "No big deal."

"Hey." She raps on his knuckles, getting his attention, wanting to wipe that dejected look off his face. "He likes you, I can tell. You'll meet Duro soon enough. Just give him time, alright?"

"Yeah." Nasir nods, rubbing his forehead. "Alright."

* * *

"How do I go about introducing them?" Agron asks suddenly, startling Donar from a light doze.

The older man snorts awake, sitting up. "What?"

Agron huffs, annoyed, but repeats, "How do I go about introducing them?"

"Who?" Donar rubs the back of his head, clearly confused, and Agron rolls his eyes.

"Nasir and Duro?"

It takes another few seconds for things to click, but when they do Donar glances over at Agron and says, "You said you didn't want to talk about it."

"And now I want to. Come on, you've been married before. How did you introduce your family to your wife?"

"Easy, I don't have one," Donar explains leaning back in his seat, looking out the windshield. "And the first wife only had a brother who lived over seas. The second had a larger family, and they lived pretty close. Each and every one of them hated me." Donar shakes his head, reaching for the fast food bag. "It's any wonder we lasted as long as we did."

"That's not helping me."

"Neither is eating all the fries," Donar complains looking into the bag. "Asshole." He punches Agron's arm, flinging the bag back onto the dashboard.

"Dick." Agron shoves him, scowling at the older man.

"Careful now, you just assaulted an officer of the law."

"So did you."

"Semantics." Donar waves his hand vaguely, but he can't quite fight a smile, and soon he's chuckling softly. Agron joins a second later, shaking his head, but his laughter cuts off pretty quickly when he reminds himself of his predicament.

"I just, I don't want to push them together if Nasir and I aren't going to last," he confides gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. "Duro gets attached to people quickly, and while he's not a little kid anymore, he still might want to keep being friends with Nasir and I just..." Agron shrugs, looking up at the ceiling. "I don't know."

"The only advice I can give to you is to just do it," Donar states lifting a shoulder. "They'll have to meet eventually. I mean, unless you plan on keeping this Nasir guy away from your apartment."

"If I can help it," Agron mutters under his breath. Between his brother's strange food experiments, and his inability to actually put his clothes in the hamper, they're apartment always smells like sweat and burnt food. Nasir doesn't need to be exposed to that, no matter how many times he asks to see Agron's place. No one should be exposed to his and Duro's apartment.

 _"Any available units,"_ the radio crackles to life, cutting off their conversation, " _possible 10-17 in progress on Flamberge Street."_

"This is Fleischer and Dittmar. We're six blocks away," Donar informs dispatch, talking into the radio attached to his vest.

" _Ten Four."_

Agron starts the car, putting it into drive, and pulls back onto the road. As he heads towards the call, he glances over at Donar and asks, "Has anyone ever told you you're a useless fuck?"

"Every one of my exes."

* * *

Nasir has just finished his last delivery when his phone buzzes from his pocket. He pulls it free, checking the screen, and smiles when he answers, "Didn't we just say goodbye...?"

" _Agron's been taken to the hospital_ ," Naevia cuts him off, her worry evident even over the phone. _"I'm heading there now. Are you almost done with work or should I wait for you?"_

"I'll be right there," Nasir says quickly and hangs up. He shoves his phone in his pocket, barely taking the six seconds to put his helmet on, and scrambling on his bike, swinging it around so he's heading towards his apartment, knowing his boss will be pissed if he doesn't turn in his log sheet but not giving a damn.

He's never peddled as fast as he is right now, getting home in under ten minutes. He jumps off his bike before it can come to a complete stop, leaving it lying on its side on the sidewalk, the wheel still spinning, and rushes inside only to nearly run into Naevia on her way out.

"What happened?" Nasir demands, following his friend outside, worry gnawing at his stomach.

 "I don't know," she admits digging in her purse for her keys. "Duro called me about fifteen minutes ago, told me Agron's on his way to the hospital, but the receptionist wouldn't tell him anything over the phone. And when I tried to get a hold of Mira, she wasn't answering, so we're just going to have to wait until we get there." She finds her keys, pulling them free, and turns to face her friend.

"He's probably fine," she says quickly, wanting to wipe that scared look off his face.

"Yeah," Nasir mutters faintly, feeling a little nauseous, "he's probably fine."

Neither Nasir nor Naevia talk on the drive to the hospital. Nasir's trying to remain calm, trying to remind himself that everything is going to be okay, but he keeps flashing back to another time, another phone call. Except  _that_ call didn't end in a hospital visit.  _That_ call ended with his brother's funeral and his father shouting, " _The wrong son died!"_ Nasir fights a shudder, pushing away those memories, and concentrates on not throwing up in Naevia's car.

A dark haired man is waiting for them when they get to the hospital. He looks up at their approach, his gaze falling on Nasir for a moment before turning to Naevia. She pulls him into a hug, asking, "Anything?"

"Yeah, the idiot screwed up his shoulder again," the guy responds returning Naevia's hug, tightening his hold on her. Nasir can see the fear still etched on his face, knows he probably looks the same way, and he realizes right away that  _this_ must be Duro.

"So he's okay?" Naevia breaks the hug, giving Duro a questioning look, and the younger guy nods.

"Yeah. He's getting an X-Ray now, but the doctor thinks he just dislocated his shoulder."

Relief floods Nasir and he has to sit down, his legs too shaky to hold his weight. He sinks into a chair, clenching his shaking hands into fists, and looks up at Duro and Naevia. They're both looking down at him, the latter worried, the former curious, and he directs his attention to Duro when he says, "Hi, I'm Nasir, Agron's friend."

"Yeah, I figured," Duro states holding his hand out. "I'm Duro, Agron's brother."

"Yeah, I figured," Nasir repeats shaking the other man's hand.

"Wish we could have met under better circumstances." Duro releases Nasir's hand, running his own through his hair.

"Me too." Nasir gives him a weak smile, folding his hands in his lap.

Duro sits next to him, Naevia on his other side, and says, "My brother has a hard time remembering that I'm not seven."

"That's what Naevia said." Nasir understands what having an older brother is like. His had been five years older than him, and while they fought constantly, Hakim would take a bullet for Nasir (and, had he been given the chance, Nasir would have returned the favor). So, he gets it, but it's still a pain in the ass having an overprotective brother.

"Do you wanna fuck with him?" Naevia asks suddenly, her lips quirking up in a mischievous smile when Duro and Nasir glance over at her.

"Oh, gods yes," Duro says quietly, grinning broadly, and in that moment Nasir is reminded of Agron.

The duo turns to Nasir, expectant looks on their faces, and he feels his resolve crack. "What do you have in mind?"

* * *

Agron is no stranger to hospitals. Growing up, he'd done some stupid shit, in college he'd done some stupid shit, last November he did some stupid shit, all of which had resulted in a trip to the ER. He has three different emergency contacts, his brother has the hospital's number memorized, and the last time he checked, Donar had started another pool at the precinct revolving around his next hospital visit (he's pretty sure Oenomaus won this time). But in all his life, every trip (every broken bone, every stitch, every concussion), he's never been greeted by a shouting match in the waiting room.

He stops short of the room, watching as Duro gets in Nasir's face. He jabs the smaller man in the chest with his index finger and snarls, "I don't know who the hell you are, but there is no fucking way you're seeing my brother."

"I think Agron is a big boy and can make that decision himself," Nasir retorts coolly, something dangerous (and undeniably sexy) flashing in his eyes.

"Boys, stop it," Naevia scolds trying to get between them, but Duro gently nudges her to the side, getting closer to Nasir.

"I want you to get out of here."

"Make me," Nasir challenges and Agron takes that as his cue to step in.

"Alright, what's going on?" he asks striding across the waiting room, planting himself in between his brother and Nasir.

"This  _guy_ ," Duro starts gesturing towards Nasir, "claims he knows you. Which, you know, is odd because I thought I knew all of your friends." He turns his dark eyes on Agron, giving him a questioning look.

"You do..." Agron starts weakly.

"You haven't told your brother about the guy you've been fucking?" Nasir gives him a scandalized look, taking a step away from Agron.

"It's not..."

"It almost sounds like your ashamed or something," Duro states slowly.

"I'm not ashamed..."

"Is it me? Are you ashamed of me?" Nasir asks curiously, folding his arms tightly against his chest, a hurt look flickering across his face.

"No, it's not..."

"So, it's me then." Duro frowns, glaring at the floor. "Well, at least we know."

"Jesus fucking Christ, I am not ashamed of anything!" Agron shouts throwing his hands in the air. "Will you two let me fucking speak?"

"I don't know, Nasir," Duro starts glancing over at the smaller man, "should we let him speak?"

"I mean, we wouldn't want him throwing a fit or anything," Nasir replies shrugging, fighting a smile.

"Wait..." Agron looks between the two, utterly confused for a brief moment, before catching on. "You two  _know_  each other?"

"Yeah," Duro whispers and Nasir nods. "We met a little bit ago."

"You two are fucking assholes."

"It was Naevia's idea," Duro states pointing at the woman. He knocks on his brother's head and says, "Since you can't seem to get it through your thick skull that I am no longer a child."

Agron dodges his brother, scowling at him. "Stop it." He shakes his head, glaring at Naevia and then Nasir, but then he sighs and grunts, "So, you know each other?"

"Yeah." Duro studies Nasir for a moment before nodding and saying, "He's not so bad. I always pictured him taller, but what can you do." Nasir's eyes narrow and Duro grins, rocking back on his heels.

Naevia turns her attention to Agron, suddenly serious, and asks, "Nothing's broken?"

Agron shakes his head, nearly forgetting he had hurt his shoulder, and answers, "Nah, dislocated."

"What happened?" Duro studies his arm, almost like he knows what he's doing, and Agron can't help snorting. "Shut up," his brother snaps glaring at him.

"I was tackled off a porch," Agron explains rubbing the back of his head. "I must have landed wrong. Donar offered to pop it back into place..."

"And you probably said yes," Duro states, deadpan.

"Did not," Agron lies scowling at his brother.

"Did too," Duro retorts sticking his tongue out at him.

"Regardless, Oenomaus told him to bring me to the hospital."

"Smart man," Naevia and Nasir mutter together.

"Shut up."

"Am I missing something?" a sudden voice asks, and the foursome turns to see Spartacus and Mira standing in the waiting room's entryway.

"Yeah," Agron starts with a frustrated sigh, "I'm surrounded by assholes."

* * *

Agron stops in front of his apartment door, turning to face Nasir, raising his hands. "So, before we go in, I have to warn you. Duro is a pig..."

"Fuck you," Duro snaps shoving past his brother, unlocking the door and heading inside.

"You've been warned."

Nasir shakes his head, his lips quirking up in a small smile, and teases, "I have a feeling  _Duro_ isn't the only pig."

Agron grunts, "Yeah, well, he's the worst." He steps to the side, letting Nasir into the apartment first, slowly following him inside.

Neither he nor Duro are much of an interior designer, and each one has too vastly different tastes to come to any sort of compromise, so their place sort of looks a bit like a clubhouse than an actual residence that houses two adults. Their couch isn't exactly new (Agron found it on the side of the road), their TV has a cracked stand, and he can easily see the burn mark in their makeshift coffee table from where Duro had left the hotplate on and nearly burned down the apartment. There are a couple hoodies on the floor (both his), a pair of running shoes sitting by the door (neither matches the other), and various dishes and glasses are scattered across the living room. The place is a pigsty, and it's taking Agron everything he has to not throw Nasir over his shoulder and rescue him from the filth that he chooses to live in every single day.

"So," he starts clearing his throat, "yeah."

Agron waits, with bated breath, for Nasir to say something. Maybe mention how his apartment smells like he takes the time to clean it every so often. Or that he doesn't have to worry about losing his forks in the couch cushions because his dishes actually make it to the sink. Or that he actually lives like he's a contributing member of society and not some frat boy who hasn't let go of his glory days. Anything would be better than this agonizing silence (which probably isn't lasting as long as Agron is making it seem), but Nasir isn't saying anything. He's standing there, taking in his surroundings, no doubt planning his great escape out of the window. This is probably the last time Agron will see the other man, Nasir finally realizing that he's dating a man child who gets tackled off of porches by his suspects and hasn't quite mastered the ability to throw his dirty laundry into a hamper. He should just say his goodbyes now.

"What's for dinner?" Nasir asks curiously, turning to face Agron, surprising the bigger man.

"What?"

"Dinner? You know, the meal that comes after lunch. I'm starving."

"I'm ordering pizza," Duro calls from the kitchen.

"Alright," Nasir calls back heading towards the couch. He sits down, immediately sinking into the cushions, but he doesn't seem to mind at all. Instead, he shrugs off his jacket, setting it next to him, letting his eyes scan the room again. "I like that painting." He points to the portrait hanging above the TV, something stupid Agron made in college when he had been high.

"Thank you?" He's confused and a little in shock. No one has ever entered his and Duro's place and been immediately okay with it. Mira had tried to clean up after them, Naevia left a stack of air fresheners outside of their door, and even Spartacus attacked their dishes like they were an army of Romans that had personally insulted him. Crixus wouldn't step foot in here, which isn't any skin off Agron's back, he didn't want the man in his apartment to begin with, but it only cements his point. Nobody wants to be here anymore than they have to be, but here is Nasir, sitting on his couch like he's lived here all his life, complimenting a painting that even Agron doesn't know what it is, acting for the world like this is the most magnificent place he has ever visited.

 _I've been dropped into fucking Htrae_ , Agron thinks shaking his head back and forth. He slowly crosses the room, sinking onto the couch next to Nasir, and openly stares at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It has to drop, nobody is this comfortable here.

"Are you okay?" Nasir asks worriedly, glancing over at him.

"Fine. Are  _you_ okay?" _  
_

"I'm fine." Nasir watches him for a few more seconds before letting his eyes rest on the sling keeping Agron's arm into place. "Does your arm hurt? Do you have any pain killers you need to take?"

"No, I'm alright."

"Okay."

Duro enters the room a moment later, plopping himself down in between Agron and Nasir, and says, "Pizza will be here in a few minutes." He grabs the remote off the coffee table, turning the TV on, and starts aimlessly flipping through the channels.

Agron stands, nodding towards the bathroom. "I'm going to go take a shower." Both Nasir and Duro nod, neither one looking his way, and Agron slowly backs out of the room, watching them warily.

He takes a quick shower, leaving the sling on his bedroom floor after he's dressed, his shoulder twinging a bit but it's not so bad that he can't ignore it. He hurries back to the living room, finding his brother laughing at whatever Nasir said, a pizza sitting on the coffee table in front of them.

"Hey, where's your sling?" Duro asks when he spots his brother, a troubled look flickering across his face.

"I don't need it," Agron replies settling down next to Nasir on the couch.

"You will if you damage that shoulder anymore," Duro argues stubbornly.

"Fuck off." Agron grabs a slice of pizza with the hand on his uninjured side, ignoring the scowl his brother gives him, and turns his attention to Nasir. "What were you two talking about?"

The smaller man gives him a worried look and says, "I think Duro's right. You should be wearing your sling."

"Fuck the gods. You too?" He's attacked by not one, but two sets of pleading eyes, and he huffs in frustration, getting to his feet. "I can't believe there's fucking two of you."

"Where are you going?" Duro asks curiously.

"To get the fucking sling," Agron snaps and storms towards his room. This is what he gets for introducing his brother to Nasir.

Worst decision ever.


End file.
